


The Old Laz'zle Dazzle

by weirdoughnut



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: "&" implies that its a brotp don't come in expecting smoochy faces between them, The Lazaret, i hope u know im indebted to you, this is for u krey9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 20:22:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15396681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weirdoughnut/pseuds/weirdoughnut
Summary: A lovely little vacation in the Lazaret brought to you by Julian Devorak and Naida Satrinava. And also me, of course, but that's a given.





	The Old Laz'zle Dazzle

“Julian, do calm down.” Nadia watched the former plague doctor pace back and forth on the boat. “I assure you, there is no need to wear a beaked mask. The oxygen in the Lazaret is not contaminated.”

The passenger cabin didn’t provide much room for frantically walking around, but, even with his height, he managed anyway. “I-I know. Oxygen wasn’t even the reason for the plague being contagious.”

“Then please take a seat. All this activity may upset the gondola.” As composed as she sounded, Nadia’s grip on the side of the boat was a tilt away from giving her white knuckles.

“Oh-” Just remembering gondolas could be capsized, Julian placed himself down, pushing his bag to the side. Sheepish but still distracted, he sat crisscrossed on the floor of the passenger cabin. To replace his pacing, he nervously wrangled his hands together. “Uh.”

“Comfortable?” Nadia teased. After the conversation skipped a beat, she said, “You’re quite skittish today, Julian. I hope you know that it isn’t too late to withdraw from this task. I am capable of surveying the Lazaret unassisted.”

Julian bounced his leg, eyes fixed on the silvery grey waters. “No.” He put a bare hand to his chest and coughed. “No, it’s not the quarantine.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrows raised, prompting him to go on.

“I mean-  _ yes _ , it  _ is _ the quarantine, but it’s not-” he stammered- “not  _ entirely _ the quarantine. Of course I’d be nervous about the quarantine, I mean, it’s the  _ quarantine! _ ” He threw his arms up dramatically, instinctively uncrossing his legs and kicking them outwards. It must have been all the choreography he’s been practicing. 

Nadia nodded in response to the flourish, holding back her amusement.

“And on top of that, a crematorium? Really, really. It doesn’t quite hold the best memories for any-”

“Julian,” she said slowly, almost jokingly. His gestures were beginning to be as reckless as his nervous ticks. Or, more accurately, his nervous ticks were beginning to be as reckless as his nervous ticks.

Julian blinked. His face reddened as he realized he went on another nervous ramble. As if he couldn’t appear any more awkward, he decided that the best course of action was to clear his throat and say, “Yes. No, uh.”

The boat rocked slightly, and both passengers turned to see the gondolier gently but easily step onto the stem of the gondola. They apologize for their tardiness, wiping their mouth like they hurriedly finished their lunch. The gondolier dipped the oar into the silky water and pushed off, headed to the island in the distance.

“Take your time, Julian. We have a while until we reach our destination.”

And, Julian did take his time. He took so much time that it was possible that, with the scenery of the ocean and the enlightening ambience in the air, he forgot that he and the countess were conversing in the first place.

Nadia hadn’t expected him to take it literally. In hindsight, she should have.

It was only when the Lazaret was a countable amount of strokes away when she tried to re-light the conversation.

“Doctor- do you mind if I still address you so?”

Julian dazedly snapped back into attention. “Huh? Oh, no, not at all, milady.”

Nadia smiled. “Then, Doctor, I would like to thank you again for accepting my proposal on such late notice. Not many would jump at an opportunity to venture into the Lazaret, with or without prior preparations.”

Her praise managed to ease Julian’s nerves a little. He sat up a bit, the tips of his ears tinging pink with a humble pride.

“Oh,” he said bashfully, “it really is nothing. Pasha wanted me to spend less time practicing the very  _ delicate _ art of day drinking, so if she found out you asked—and she always finds out eventually, that little gossip—I would have come along even if I didn’t want to. I’m just surprised you asked me!” Something he said made him hunch his shoulders and stop himself. “Not, uh, not in the ‘bad way surprised’. Touched, in other words,” he added. “I myself would have chosen a magician to search for anything even  _ more  _ out of the ordinary in the old Laz.”

Nadia put a hand to her chin. Which phrase made her head race more—“the  _ delicate  _ art of day drinking” or “the old Laz”—she wasn’t sure. “Well, that’s what I had in mind. Unfortunately, neither Asra nor Trivia are available. Out for supplies, they told me.”

Julian stared at Nadia, then his eyes shifted to the floor. He couldn’t help his flushed cheeks as he managed an embarrassed, “Ah…” There was nothing worse than assuming you were someone’s first choice. Not even getting caught with doubloons at the storefront when they only accept guilders was that bad. Who would even use  _ guilders  _ anymore?

Nadia chuckled. “I am teasing you, Doctor. You were first on my list. I was hoping my former architectural compeer would lend me his aid.”

Julian exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding and pressed a hand against his chest. “Oh, you had me fooled there!” Relieved, he clasped his hands together and grinned. “I live to be of service, Countess. I’m glad to be here.”

She smiled. “And I’m pleased to hear so.”

“Land, ho,” the gondolier said cooly, seemingly unaffected by the terribly  _ welcoming  _ sight of the island. They nod to Julian and Nadia. “Enjoy your vacation.”

Julian barked out a laugh before suddenly hesitating. “Does… this not scare you?”

“What, this here’s isle? Not anymore. The number of people who find the Lazaret to be a place of interest is unbelievable.” They rolled their eyes and scoffed. “Tourists. No offense, sir. I’ve heard you travel often.”

“Ha! None taken. You pay doubloons to the wrong merchant and you’ll hear  _ much _ worse. Impressively worse, even.”

“Hm. I might have to step my insult game up, then.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I interrupt,” Nadia said, almost torn between what she came here for and staying to hear the jibes that the gondolier could muster, “but it is best we begin while the sun is still high. There is little uncontrolled magic to fear here, but the island itself can prove dangerous even when mundane. Thank you, again, for taking us out this far.”

“Of course, milady Countess. A little secret between you and me: I get paid extra to go this far.”

With an entertained smile playing on her lips, Nadia began to step out of the gondola. Before she could move another inch, Julian held out his arm and scrambled to exit before her.

“ _ Ahp-pap-pap! _ Hold on, milady.” His boots hit the devastated ashen sand before hers. He searched the area near the hull of the boat, clearing any debris that littered it, hitting his toes a little too hard now and again. After concluding his work satisfactory and his feet unbroken, he extended a hand to Nadia and bowed with an exaggerated flourish.

In turn, she laughed. “How considerate of you, Doctor.”

“Only for Vesuvia’s finest countess,” he replied, pleased with his chivalry. Nadia took his offer and stepped onto the beach, graceful despite the loose grains.

Quickly, Julian grabbed his satchel from inside the boat and tugged it on. He saluted conscientiously, declaring a throaty, “Lead the way!”

 

A breeze swept across the area, blowing across waves and rustling the leaves. If there was cement degraded by time, nature, or history, the wind was enough to send it scattering away.

“Goodness…” Even just a glance through the overgrowth was unpleasant. “Reconditioning this isle will certainly prove a formidable challenge.”

Julian grunted. “Mmm.”

“And to think that is this somewhat of a… tourist attraction.” She made a mental note to close off the Lazaret to unauthorized persons. The death count here was high enough.

“Mhm.”

“I cannot believe the city would so freely allow visitors to come by so often. Or at all, for that matter.” She paused and ruminated on her words. “Maybe I could believe that additional incompetence.”

“Mm, yes…”

Nadia bent down to inspect a burn scar on the trunk of a tree. “Doctor? Is something wrong?” she asked, her hand feathering the blackened bark. Soot drifted at her touch.

“Ah, definitely, yes…”

Finally, she turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Julian, the Lazaret?”

“Huh?” She saw his nose in a notebook and the tip of an ink quill in his mouth. In the crook of his elbow was an ink pot, teetering with every absent-minded step he took. “Whoops, I’m sorry,” he said, looking up from the pages. “I admit I’m a little… preoccupied.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” She stood, tracing the burns one last time before moving on. “If I may ask, what’s gotten your attention?”

He was silent for a while, scribbles sounding from behind Nadia. “Oh… Trivia’s… Hm…”

He seemed an idea and quickly jot it down, almost scared it would run away from him. Even quicker, he dismissed the thought and scratched the quill against the paper once more.

“Trivia’s upcoming birthday,” he continued. “I don’t have a clue what to get her.”

“Truly?” Nadia glanced back in time to see him narrowly avoid colliding with a rock with a wide sidestep.

“Not a single lightbulb hasn’t burnt out,” he said casually, as if ink wasn’t dripping down his right arm. “Say, you and her are close, aren’t you?”

She blinked, a smirk playing on her lips. “I would hope so, seeing as she  _ is _ my partner. Ah, turning away from the island provides an… admittedly scenic view of the sea.”

Julian faced the waters and felt the warm afternoon sun settle on his skin. “Admittedly scenic” felt like it trivialized the reassurance that the wonder provided, or  _ would have _ provided if only the past use of the island it was seen from wasn’t so tainted. The waves were non-threatening—the light swam almost as beautifully as the occasional fish who dared leap above water. In the distance, one could see Vesuvia, but without the hustle and bustle of its daily wont.

“Well, would you look at that!” he said. He edged closer to the sealine and took in the ocean air, reminiscent of his buccaneer days.

Nadia nodded. She said, “But, I’m afraid I can’t tell you exactly what to gift to Trivia, Julian. It should come from you, should it not?”

He sighed, tugging himself away from the picture. “I suppose you’re right. Do you… happen to have any pointers, though?” he pressed.

Nadia spotted a particularly worn dirt path cutting through the foliage and followed it. Julian trailed right behind her, writings still (unknowingly) out and ready, ink still (also unknowingly) dribbling from his sleeve.

“Do you and Trivia not regular the community theatre in your neighbourhood? That would then open opportunities to familiarize yourselves with one another, no?” She pushed away low-hanging branches, stopping to hold them for the man behind her.

“Oh, yes. Uh, thank you,” he said, still managing to struggle with the vines despite Nadia’s help. He noticed the ink on his arm as a vine caught it and took a short moment to grieve. Deducing that it was out of his hands, he went on, saying, “As performers, either we’re mortal enemies, or we’re bound by blood, sweat, and tears. At least,” Julian added as he broke free of Mother Nature’s entanglements, “that’s what she told me. I figure she’s right, though. Maybe not the blood part, although… the blood looks a  _ little  _ too real sometimes.”

The path moved on from a dirt trail to a clumsy cobble walkway. There were so many moss-swarmed cracks along it, a grade schooler would have fought shy of it out of worry for their mother’s back. Their shoes clacking against the stone was the loudest sound the two heard on the island apart from the waves, muffled by the distance and flora. Then, there was a whistle. As they both looked up-

“Is that a bird’s nest?” Julian remarked dumbfoundedly. “I didn’t think  _ anything  _ would want to live here.”

“It seems you’re correct.” Nadia peered at the bundle of sticks snuggled high above her. “Perhaps it really  _ is  _ time to renovate the Lazaret.”

“Huh. Perhaps it is.”

It was a wonder how much three years could change a whole island.

They lingered a little longer, wishing to appreciate the humble life they stumbled upon—in such a controversial setting, too. A second bird landed and sang along with the first. Neither of them could help but smile.

“Well, Doctor,” Nadia said, having herself carry on, “it seems to me that you both share a love of dramatics. Both kinds. Any thoughts?”

Julian tapped the feather on his chin. “I think- oh,  _ drats. _ Does this count as disturbing the dead? Pasha’s gonna give me hell for this. She’ll-she’ll think I’m cursed for the rest of the month!”

Panicked, he shoves his utensils back into his bag, being particularly careful with the ink pot. His eyes searched the vegetation around him like he expected the green to bend over and encapture him, or for Portia to appear, shrieking a list of various curses he brought upon himself.

Nadia raised an eyebrow. “What makes you so sure that it only lasts a month?” She placed her hand on a rusty entryway, glad she wore gloves on their expedition. “Hm, what’s behind  _ these  _ pearly gates?”

She pushed past them and into the darkness, leaving Julian behind to either tremble in fear or stumble after her.

“W-w-wait, the curse is real?” he spluttered. “It-it lasts longer than-? C-Countess!”

As expected, he did both.

 

There was little light that escaped the dense canopy. Not even the rays slipped far past the gateway. Until it was clear that the path was straight and unbothered, Nadia was content with using her sheathed sword to feel the way ahead. Each time something unknown feathered him, Julian wanted to curl into a ball and cry.

He began to calm as coloured light found its place in a building before them. Taking deep breaths, he lowered the pitch of his voice. “Let me go ahead, Countess. We don’t know what’s up there.”

She pretended not to notice the odd timbre. “All the more reason to find answers,” she replied, strapping on her blade once more.

Julian strode after her, then matched her step by step. He couldn’t tell if the steady beat of their footsteps was tranquillizing or irritating.

They reached the reddish light, coloured like diluted blood. It shrouded the abandoned building with forewarning. Immediately, the area cooled, but that wasn’t what sent the chill down their spines. Across the room, rows upon rows of stained furnaces welcomed them. Each was big enough for a body. Dust covered every inch of the area, but whether or not they were remnants of what happened here, they weren’t sure. Neither wanted to be sure.

“This place is…” Nadia started.

“...Yikes,” Julian finished.

She released a breath, uncertain of how she should feel. “I agree.”

It wasn’t even the graveyard they walked on. It was the disrepair, giving the impression that even the island itself fell under Lucio’s presence. Stepping inside just one of the buildings, it was only the veil of eerie silence that covered the screaming truth. They could only follow its example and keep quiet.

“I… never visited the Lazaret during the spread of the plague.” He was… relieved. Guilty.

“That may have been for the better.” She tread delicately, almost unsurely, like too much pressure on the ground would crumble the already upset walls.

Behind her, Julian ran his hand along a slab of cement, sobering at the grey that coated his fingertips. The cement fell apart and rattled across the floor, stopping once it hit an incinerator of the plague-ridden.

“If it hadn’t taken me so long…” Even his whispers were magnified in the smothering stillness of the crematorium.

Nadia’s brows creased. “Portia would pull your ear if she heard you say that.”

He kept his back turned to her, wordless.

She sighed. After a moment, she said, “We all failed Vesuvia in some way, Julian. But, we paid our dues with the defeat of Lucio’s revenant. None of us could have the motive to go so far in his slaying without the information you went to such lengths to provide us.”

He still wasn’t responding. Just when she thought to speak up again, he shifted the weight on his feet and breathed out. His head tilted slightly as if wishing to address her but unable to move where he wanted to. “How can you be so sure? I don’t mean to challenge you, but…”

He dragged himself to the iron furnaces, dark both in colour and history, and pulled one open, shivering at the grease sticking to his skin. Grey eyes stared sadly into the powdery remains that were never properly maintained after use.

“Thousands burned. In the beginning, only the dead would taste the heat. By the end of it all, living victims would be carried from the boats right into the flames. Even for doctors, a ride here took a one-way ticket.” He scowled. “How could I ever redeem myself?”

Nadia stood next to him but didn’t dare touch a furnace. She folded her hands behind her back, giving the Julian a contemplative look. “Is the concept of accepting what has happened so awfully improbable to you?”

He looked at her sulkily, then back at the incinerator. He shoved the door shut.

“I watched Vesuvia die, wallowing in my self-pity while citizens and foreigners alike died trying to find the cure,” she said. “Yet, you still forgive me, do you not?”

His posture shot up, eyes widening. “O-of course!” he said with sincerity. “In fact, there’s nothing to forgive. You had your own life to deal with.” He said “life” the way someone would say “problems”, or possibly imply “Lucio”.

“And you didn’t?” she urged. “It stands to reason, Julian, that when people have double standards, it usually works in their own favour.”

The ends of his mouth lifted, albeit still a little weighed by something else. He changed the subject, not with avoidance, but with unspoken gratitude. “Feeling facetious today, Countess?”

“It must be the unordinary setting.” She glanced at the iron, taking his cue to move on with the conversation. “I’m curious—would you happen to be in contact with any smiths willing to recycle these furnaces?”

“I know one or two who could use some scrap metal,” he mused, crossing his arms and cupped his chin in hand. “Hm… what do you say to a monument made of these?”

“Pardon?”

“We’ll have to see if the city would even  _ want  _ to use them again of course, though for another purpose, but at least we can honour the dead in some way,” he offered.

Nadia smiled. “That’s a wonderful idea, Doctor. The city’s vote for a monument might just be unanimous. There will certainly be contradicting opinions on the material it’s to be made out of, though.”

“I don’t doubt it. Are we thinking some sort of statue, or needle, or…?”

She paused for a moment. “I would like to take the names of the dead,” she said, beginning to roam once more.

Julian wrapped his hands around the strap of his bag, idly fiddling with it. “Those are… a lot of names.”

“And then some,” she agreed. “Surely we won’t even receive all of them through a survey. We’ll have to look at citizen records individually if we’re to do this correctly. It will be good to get an updated population count, as well.”

Stepping through the crematorium, they heard birds chirping happily through a hole in the roof. The ambience now was almost serene.

Julian clicked his tongue. “We leave Lucio out, right?”

Nadia put her hands on her hips, the corner of her lips tugging upwards. “I’m glad we’re on the same wavelength. The Lazaret could yet find vindication, but that man has little to say for himself.”

He scoffed. “Little to say? I think he has too much to say for himself. Nothing worth listening to, though, you’re right.”

She hummed. “Of course I am. Help me take inventory of the furnaces, will you?”

He took out his writing utensils, dutifully saluting. “I’ll start on the other side, milady.”

 

“Thank you once again for accommodating me here, Doctor.”

The sun was halfway down the horizon. By this time, they completed a list of starting goals for the Lazaret. Not wanting to stay there after dark nor push the gondolier’s courage, the two planners made their way across the beach. That option was much more preferable than trekking through the dark woods of the island.

“No need for thank-yous!” Julian grinned. “It was all my pleasure. It was about time I made use of these old ink jars.” He waved about several pages of detailed sketches, notes, and lists with an ink-splotched hand.

“Careful. It just barely ended well the last time you carried the papers like that,” she said, chuckling. Self-consciously, he slipped them back into his bag. “Have you thought of a gift for Trivia during the afternoon here?”

He stopped short of his vigilant organization. “Whoa-ho-ho,  _ there’s _ something I forgot about.”

“Was a work shift at the Lazaret that enjoyable?” she joked. Overhead, the rays of sun dwindled even more, creating long, yet scenic, shadows across the shore.

He nodded, his left eye dancing with mirth. “Oh, absolutely. I would love to have a beach day here,” he said, kicking up some ash. “Or a vacation house. Right there, between _Possibly-Sentient-and-Malicious-Tree Number One_ and their twin, _Possibly-Sentient-and-Malicious-Tree Number_ _Two,_ all comfy-cozy over there.”

“Arrangements can be made if you so ask,” Nadia offered.

Julian held up a finger, signalling the proclamation of a condition. “Only if it can be built by next month. Who would go on a deserted island vacation during the cold months?” He tapped his chin, rigidly jumping to the next thought. “I wonder, would Trivia appreciate her name ominously printed off to the side of the monument as a gift?”

“I think she would like a beach house better.”

Julian barked out a laugh, startling a nearby waddling waterfowl.

“A cryptic legacy certainly sounds like something she could appreciate, indisputably,” she went on, “though the monument may be something she wants to keep solemn.”

“A permission-first gift,” he said resentfully. “Harrumph. That completely removes the element of surprise from it. And that’s the second most essential element, apart from  _ personality _ . Hello again!”

The gondolier nodded, now sporting a wide-brimmed hat that felt superfluous in the lack of light and the need for vision in the evening. “Milady Countess, Julian. All set?”

With Julian’s insistent help, Nadia seated herself in the cabin. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Let’s see…” Julian plops himself on the floor again (perhaps taking a liking to stretching his legs flat on the ground) and rummages through his back. Satisfied with the organized mess that greeted him, he sticks up three fingers and joins two in an “a-okay” gesture. “Aye, aye, cap!”

The gondolier didn’t bother hiding another eye roll and a murmur of, “Pirates.” In fact, with their tarp of a headwear, it seemed like they were trying to make it obvious. Julian pouted as they pushed the boat off of the sand.

Well, they did say they intensify their insults.

“Gee, it’s late,” he commented. His petulance was replaced with embarrassment at the growl of his stomach. “Excuse me. It’s really late. Would you mind if we carriage-pool to the castle? I feel like tonight’s a night to stand outside of Pasha’s house until she feeds me.”

“Oh, we will head the same route, then,” Nadia said, trailing a hand in the cool water. It reflected the glow of Vesuvia alluringly, giving her more sightseeing ideas.

“Oh,” Julian mumbled absently. Then, curiously, “Oh?”

“Your sister invited Trivia and me over for some  _ ‘Portia’s Eatables’ _ , which I believe is a title that she managed to reserve. Since Trivia and Asra were out, I would expect her to bring him as an anticipated plus-one.”

He frowned. “She… didn’t invite me?” His pout found its way back to his face.

“Has it crossed your mind that she expected you to arrive anyway?” she engaged. “You’re both quite prevalent on the grapevine.”

He looked to consider it, but his bottom lip remained stuck-out. “An invitation is still nice…”

Nadia’s eyes widened, realizing with her next thought that she and Julian were on the same wavelength. “So is an unexpected-” she began.

“-dramatic entrance!” they both said, completing the notion together.

“There is a reason you are Vesuvia’s countess and _that_ right there is _it!_ _Ooh,_ I wish I had my coat,” he chirped excitedly, punctuating his sentence by occasionally slamming a fist against the palm of his hand. He noticed that he was rocking the boat again and softened his actions, but ideas of spectaculars kept brewing. His thoughts were partial to riding in on a steed, but then he might trample Portia’s garden and be sent to the porch with a dunce hat while she worked her botanic magic (not literal magic, but she has been taking lessons).

“I am glad to know you’re attending. It has been some time since we’ve all been together for the pure sake of it.” Nadia folded her hands in her lap. Around her, waves glistened as they splashed against the gondola’s hull, spraying outwards almost as enthusiastically as Julian was plotting dramatics. Few clouds were out—too little to block the sky, but just enough to accentuate the rising satellite. High above, the stars twinkled, almost as if they were sighing out of relaxation, enjoying the tranquil night.

Julian followed her gaze and his cheeky grin became soothed and gentle. “Hey, hey, it  _ has  _ been a while, hasn’t it? Hm.” He turned around and spotted the woodland near the castle, searching for the warm lights that belonged to a certain cottage. “This’ll be nice.”


End file.
